


Proximities

by hanwritessolo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 20:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanwritessolo/pseuds/hanwritessolo
Summary: You've grown closer to Nyx, and you now decide to close the remaining space between you and him by gambling your feelings in three little words.





	Proximities

“You’re thinking.“

Nyx, in all his intuitiveness, have already translated all the versions of silence that you’ve shared with him in the months you’ve been together. All versions were shared with utmost comfort, of course. Nyx studies you the way any man wants to learn and speak a foreign language—he’s dedicated to decipher you at all costs.

So far, he knows of your  _I don’t feel like talking_  mode, the one he learns to carefully navigate like a soldier treading a minefield. There’s also your  _I’m concentrating_  mode, one in which he commonly sees whenever you’re buried between the pages of a newly bought book; it’s his personal favorite, the one he enjoys watching, most especially when he catches your face beaming up on a heart-racing chapter. And right at this moment, your  _There’s something on my mind_ , the most welcoming of all three, the one he usually breaks and relishes with quiet conversations, your favorite take-out food, and cheap bottles of beer.

What he does not know, however, is the silence you’re suffering doesn’t seem to fit any of his known translations. As you settle against the warmth of his chest and him in the crown of your head, there’s a feeling creeping up on you that you can’t quite place; it somersaults restlessly, floundering and free falling into the unknown.

“I’ve been thinking… of nominating your tongue as a national treasure of Insomnia. Or having it insured.” You tease, poking him on his side, hoping upon hope that this will hide your vague sense of anxiety.

"Great idea, I’ll let Drautos know.” He plainly replies. You look up at him and his stupidly beautiful face before the both of you burst into laughter—may the Astrals be kind to your helpless soul, it’s illegal that even his laughter is  _this_  sexy.

Images from last night still burned bright in the theatre of your brain, replaying in full technicolor motion, not one scene missed: skin pressed against skin, his mouth between your legs, taking and tasting you with absolute vigor and hunger, his fingers moving with immaculate precision. And he was inside you, each thrust of his hips met with delicious moaning and screaming that you’re pretty sure that your neighbors now know how  _good_  Nyx is.

"But babe, seriously. What’s on your mind?” He places a kiss on your forehead. His breath still smells like peppermint—this, you thought, is terribly unfair. How can a man exist that even his scent is chiseled to perfection, when you smell yourself and you reek of sex?

"I’m hungry,” you lie again. Sort of. You shift so you can return a kiss on his cheek. “Someone kept me up last night.”

"Wow, what a coincidence—someone kept me up last night, too. How uncanny,” this time he peppers your head with small kisses and you can’t help but giggle.

"Gods, pizza in this post-sex early morning bliss. Could this day get any better?”

"If you let me eat  _you_  for breakfast, then yes, it could get better,” he laughs and you playfully slap him across his chest. “That’s a no, then—okay, anything else aside from pizza?”

"An iced cold soda sounds nice, too.”

“Consider it done.”

“And a wheelchair, because I don’t think I can walk for days.”

“Done and done. And?”

“I love you.”

 _Shit_.

With the unknown making itself known, the words erupt from your mouth, your feelings not mincing those three little words. He pulls away, and you both sit up, straightened in this sudden revelation, and the thickness of your worry begins to swell. The seconds tick heavily. You attempt to figure out his face, his mouth slightly parted, and you wait for his words to come out.

You choke out of panic. “Please say something—”

Nyx captures your mouth into an electric kiss, and you’re almost certain he’s deliberately jolting the air out of your lungs. He pulls away, and you’re left speechlessly staring into his awfully beautiful eyes, the shade of blue you can drown in for days.

"Sorry, I’m just… relieved and so fucking happy—” he rambles, and he lovingly takes your face in his calloused, war-beaten hands. “Gods, I love you, too. You’re the fucking moon to me.”

This minute of silence you both share is something fresh, one you won’t quite forget in your lifetime as you both can’t wipe the smiles off your faces.


End file.
